Red is a Common Color
by Satan's Cup of Tea
Summary: It won't matter, he told himself as he choked for air. But the tears that pricked his eyes told him otherwise.- [Set in Super Sons]


**Do you guys know how many fics I have in my drafts that I should and still want to publish but Im not finished yet bc Im me?**

 **Yeah _(ツ)/**

 **~*O*~**

 _Red_

 **~*O*~**

" _...-amian_!"

 _Who-?_ "Damian! Dami-!"

Someone sent a heavy boot to his stomach, flinging Damian across the floor. He shuddered — _oh god_ — hearing the crack of his ribs. (Get up you fool!)

"Look at you, _pathetic_." His body felt heavy, something liquid and sticky lay in a puddle beneath him (blood, he knows). Damian shifted his leg, an attempt to get up but only managed to scream when it flourished with pain.

He- Holy shit- This— Orange and black? Deathstroke — had broke his leg. Now the man held his legs down, hands on his chest, hurting the ribs. (Make him stop make him _STOP!_ ) Damian screamed, trying every ounce of strength he has left (which was little none, actually) to claw at the man's face.

 _Deathstroke_ — Willson, he'll kill Jon. The man will kill _anyone_ , no care. And... Damian doesn't want to die (again).

"Stop it!" Deathstroke grunted, and fell to the floor, but Damian could not move. He was tired, so very tired...

"Damian!"

" _Jon_ ," He managed between a cough, just the little thread of conciousness he still hung onto. "I'll buy you time." It was a whisper, something he'd gotten used to doing because Jon could hear him.

Damian leveled his gaze to Jon's, who's lip trembled. "Get —" _wheeze_ "o-out."

"Damian—!" He threw an explosive birdarang Jon's way, and collapsed back to the ground, the explosion ringing in his ears.

Damian watched through a fuzzy sight, Jon scrambled to his feet, stumbling due to the (he assumed it was lined with kryptonite) exposion to the kryptonite chains.

Behind him, the heavy thump of boots making contact with the cement echoed.

If he times this right...

"GO!" Damian leapt, throwing himself against Deathstroke, flipping over to the man's back and clawed at his face. Occasionally throwing punches.

He pulled his gaze up. "Do you hear me? I _said — get out!_ "

Jon stumbled, seeming to want to stay (what a fool — who would stay for _Damian?_ ). He glared once again, and the boy stumbled. "I don-"

Damian sputtered blood over Deathstroke's head when the man had shoved him against a wall, hard. "G-go." Jon stumbled back, shaking his head.

"Don't make me do this, _please!_ "

Deathstroke pried his hands off his face and threw him to the ground, clasping hands around Damian's throat before he could take in any air.

Jon shouted, and his footsteps echoed through the floor.

Damian sputtered, tugging hopelessly at the man's hands. He. Can't. _BREATH!_

It brought back painful memories, him dying, the heretic standing over him with the sword in hand. _Goodbye, Damian._

He closed his eyes, ready for the aftermath when Deathstroke yelled and pulled his hands off Damian's throat.

Damian gasped, sputtered and wheezed. Jon stumbled back, and he caught sight on what the boy had done.

A crowbar jutted out from the man's right arm, blood beginning to stain his suit.

He glanced at Jon, who still looked shocked and noticed the chute behind the boy.

"Jon,"

Jon turned, tears glistening. "I- I didn't—" He sniffed. "Mean t-to! "I s-swear Dami—"

"Shut up." Damian wheezed again and heavily got to his feet, his mind screaming when he'd put pressure on his broken foot.

"Dami I-" Damian pushed Jon into the chute, and he waved.

Jon screamed, plunging into the darkness.

A sickening squelch sounded behind him, along with a grunt. "That was brave of you, but an idiotic choice."

Something metal and cold rammed to the back of his head and his vision plunged.

 **~*O*~**

Jon couldn't breath. Had Damian just did _that?_ Him — Damian Wayne Al-Ghul — _did that._

But more importantly, his friend was up there, with that man Jon doesn't know the name of. Though Damian seemed to know the orange and black suited man, he swears he could see fear in Damian's green orbs (and that... Is not something to be brushed off).

Rising from a pile of boxes, Jon stared at the way he came down.

He could jump it, but everything still looked fuzzy. Kryptonite had a rather nasty aftereffect with leaving him dizzy, fuzzy and like he wanted to puke. Also, his limbs felt like jelly.

But, its not like that'd stop him.

Jon leaned his back against the wall as another wave of a headache came on and prepared to jump. He looked up, pursed his lips and... jump-

There was a click, something his super-hearing coukd only pick up, just a second before everything exploded into a burst of heat and orange.

Blasted back, Jon collided with a wall, hard. He slid to the ground, arms reaching to hold his head.

Damian. Damian- Oh no no _no NO NO NO_

" _DAMIAN!_ " Jon ran, jumped in, super-breathing the smoke away and threw every rubble over.

He can't loose Dami, no not Damian. "Damian! Damian!" Where is he? Where is he? _Where is Damian?!_

" _Dami_ — DAMIAN!" Lying in a heap, the boy was covered by his cape. Jon ran to his friend, still hearing the very very faint pulse (fading), and the seeing the blood that ran everywhere.

"No no no nonono— _NONONO_ -"

 **~*O*~**

Somewhere above him, a low rumble made its way to Damian's ears. "The Bat has made you weak, child." The voice growled, a shadow casting over him.

Damian rasped a ragged breath, "He... He'll live..."

" _Wrong_ ; you'll both _**die**_." The clank of something, Damian soon realized it was the chute against Deathstroke's boots.

Forcing another round of energy, Damian leapt screaming and pounded on the man's head. "Get off me — you _insolent_ \- _**AGH!**_ "

Damian had took off his utility belt and wrapped it around the man's neck and tugged. "You will _leave_ him."

Deathstroke tugged at the golden belt, slipping his fingers in to make room to breath in air, but Damian did not let go. Though, little did he know the man's hand had went up and grabbed his shoulders.

He was thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Deathstroke pinned his neck with an arm, the other holding both his hands above his hand and a leg pinning his (yes, it hurts badly because well — broken leg). Something sizzled in the back, like flames being set on a line to fire up a bomb.

Its okay, but its not okay, Damian decided. Superboy will be safe, and Father would not have to worry. (He'll just have to die again, no problem — _no problem_ ).

And its not like anyone has ever bothered with him.

Unlike Grayson, Todd and Drake, he was given without much of a choice to be taken in by Batman. The rest of them, Father had picked them, and that way they will always have some place with Father.

 _It won't matter_ , he told himself as he choked for air. But the tears that pricked his eyes told him otherwise.

(This is okay this is okay — _this is fine-_ )

Something clicked and the air turned to heat, and Damian took the chance to throw his cape over himself (so at leasy they would be able to identify his body).

 **~*O*~**

Jon lifted Damian's body gently and held it, mouth agape and trembling. "Dami...?"

Damian made no response.

He's hurt — _he's going die because of **you**._ "Dami —" He choked on a sob. " _Im sorry_ —"

Can his friend hear him? "I'll— Im gonna g-get you to Gotham a-and —" Another horrible sob. "And Batman." Jon wasted no time in picking his friend as he stood, trying to remember which way they came from (which was Gotham, of course).

He can hear Damian's heart beat (which was fading, but its beating — and beating is _very good_ ). He just... Needs to find a way-

" _RAAAAAHH_ -" Something rose from a pile of rubble, and Jon held onto Damian tighter. The figure turned his way, orange and black cloth blowing. " _I'll kill you, and **him!**_ "

 _Oh nonononono_ \- Jon stepped back, glancing down at his green and red cladded friend, and bacl at the man. He doesn't need any of this. No more no more _no more_ -

Jon glared at the man. "I won't let you," He could just see what he did. (Beat Damian, _over and over and over_ \- and then tried to kill his friend). Everything turned to red, and the man let out a cry and fell back into the rubble.

Silence cut through the air, and the slow and raspy breathing of Damian's, but apart from that — nothing.

Was the man... Was he dead? Had Jon just _killed_ someone? _No no no no_ —

" _J-Jon.._." Damian. He looked down, already feeling the moistness in his eyes.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

" _Im sorry_ ," Wait, what? — No, Damian, don't say that. His breathing was fading now, faint and fainter... "Forgive my weakness."

"No— No! Dami don't-" Jon choked on a sob again and began to run. "-don't say that _please_." _Don't talk don't talk-_

"T-tell Father he did not deserve —" Damian struggled for a breath and Jon could have sworn something broke in his friend. "— such a disappointment."

"No— Damian _shut up-_ "

"Im sorry."

Oh god oh god — _ohgodohgodohgodohgod_ -

 **~*O*~**

Something warm radiated from his right, something else beeped. What...? Where is he? Why does everything- ...oh no. _Jon_. Jon oh god is he alright?

Damian's dead now. Everything feels cold again and he can't — breath. He's dead again, another disappointment to everyone else and he can't — everyhthing is dark.

"Damian! Damian-"

No- no no no—

"Damian wake up!" And he did, choking back a sob that rattled through his body. Everything hurts. And Jon— Jon — wh- is standing right next to him. How is that possible?

Had Jon... Had Jon died with him? He'd failed. Oh god he failed— Father will be so disappointed in him. And he'd failed to save Jon and now he's dead too, and it was _all **his** **fault**_. He should've-

Something warm and soft gripped his hand — he's imagining this. There's nothing warm in death — there can't be such a thing-

"Dami— Its me-" _Jon_. Jon is that you? "Yeah — _yeah_ its me. You're not dead, its fine — you're at Gotham, you-"

Damian peeled his eyes open, staring back into watery blue. " _J-Jon_ ,"

"Yes, its me. You're okay."

"N-no... I —" _I failed. I failed you. I failed Father — everyone_. He can't be here, no _no way_. This is just a dream, a bittersweet aftertaste of his death that — "I- I died — again."

"No. _No you didn't_. Damian — _look at me!_ "

And he did. " _Really_ look at me — a-and where you are. You're not dead. Y-you're-"

"Im... _alive?_ "

"Yes! Yes you are,"

"But... The explosion — _Deathstroke_ -"

"No- no he won't be a problem. You're safe. You're okay, your dad is upstairs with Nightwing, "and they're very worried."

Damian let out a breath. He's alive. Jon is alive. Everything's going to be okay- "Jon,"

"Yeah?"

"Im sorry—" His lip trembled as a lump grew in his throat. "I-"

Hands, small and warm wrapped around body gently, squeezing slightly so it doesn't hirt his mending bones. "No— No _Dami_ its _fine_."

"No, its _not_ -" He choked on a sob as tears wetted his eyes. "Im _scared_ — and that's w-"

"Stop," Jon whispered. "You're _not_ weak."

Damian sat there, staring blankly at the walls of his room as Jon hugged him. The tears from all the time started to flood onto Jon's shirt.

With one last shaky breath, Damian slowly pulled his arms so that it went around Jon's and burried his face into the crook of his friend's neck.

" _Im sorry_."

 **~*O*~**

 **Y'know, I had like 2 other drafts on different styles it was written in. And really? I got bored with them and this was the one I really enjoyed writting in. (Not that I don't like those styles, I just preffered this normal one for writting this story).**

 **So, I honestly loveeee reading reviews (criticism is fine by me, but please make it contructive!)**

 **Whup whup its exam week I should not be writing this but oh weeeellll, perhaps you guys would like me to make another part...? Ehhh?**

 **G'day to y'all o/**


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